


Love Me Dead

by owlaholic68



Category: Monster of the Week (Tabletop RPG), Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Blood Drinking, Canonical Character Death, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Grief/Mourning, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22802419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Mirror Universe Jacques and James. Not such a nice love story this time around.
Relationships: James/Jacques
Kudos: 1





	Love Me Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Love Me Dead" by Ludo.

Jacques Revel barely even remembers that he’s a demon.

He knows that he’s strong, stronger even than the vampires that surround him. He knows he has a charm and a smile that lets him get more than he should get. He knows that James can drain him until he’s light-headed and Jacques will be right as rain the next day. Right as rain.

Rain. Drumming against the windows. Dark outside.

Jacques raises his head and frowns. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here staring into nothing.

“James?” He calls out. No answer. He must be out – Jacques doesn’t remember. He doesn’t really remember much of anything right now.

He does not remember that there is a world outside of his love. He does not remember his sisters, he does not remember the Org, he does not remember that he has other responsibilities, and he does not remember that he is grave danger.

How could he be in danger? He’s with James.

James who is so sweet to him. James who is kind and smart and cunning.

James who is no longer _his_ James. Not really. Not anymore. Not since he was turned and not since he was brainwashed by Holz and not since Jacques _failed_ to save him.

James who is still nice in little doses. Just enough to string Jacques out until he can’t hardly think, until he’s eager to please as long as he earns another scrap of affection.

He does not remember that this is a bad thing.

How could it be a bad thing? James loves him. Sometimes.

* * *

“You’re an idiot.” Lucy tries to bar his way out.

“I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago,” Jacques argues. “I’m _fixing_ what I broke. What I failed to fix. To prevent. To _protect.”_ His voice wobbles. Always had a specialty and a soft spot for tragic love stories. “It’s my fault, this is _my fault-”_

“No it’s not!” Lucy pushes him. His loving protective sister. “This is Holz’s damn fault. Not yours. So stop it, stop trying to throw your life away!”

Jacques shoves past her and slams open the door out of the Org. “I’m not throwing my life away! And stop trying to patronize me saying that it’s not my fault. I should have saved him, I should have found him in time or tried to bring him back or something, Lucy, _anything!”_ He wipes away tears. “I loved him and I let him be turned into a monster and I did nothing! I can’t take it anymore! I need to find him and I need him to remember me and I need him to love me, Lucy, I don’t care if I die trying because otherwise, what’s even the point?” He slams his hand against the doorframe. “There _is_ no point, Luce, not without him! There _never_ has been. So just drop it, okay? I’m going!”

He turns away and storms out.

* * *

“Jacques, come here.”

Jacques’ heart leaps. He trots to James’ side. “Yes, sir.”

“Sit. I’m hungry.”

“Yes, sir.” James is doing business so Jacques doesn’t dare call him by his name. He does not have the right. Not while there are others in the room. Calling each other by name is a private privilege.

Jacques sits in his lover’s lap and bares his neck. He winces as James’ sharp teeth lock into his skin. The ceiling swims in front of his unfocused eyes. He lets his head slump against James’ shoulder and his limp hand manages to find James’ to hold it. Cold but soft. James squeezes his hand, fingernails biting as possessively as teeth.

He feeds for long minutes. Jacques’ vision starts going dark.

Relief. James pulls back and delicately wipes his mouth.

“Good boy,” he mutters. “You may sit here for a little while longer.”

“Yes, sir.” Jacques’ eyes flutter. He keeps his head rested against James’ collarbone, mostly tuning out the murmured conversation around him.

“You’ll kill him like that, sir,” somebody softly admonishes. “We have precious few living suppliers, you can’t afford to accidentally drain too much. Pardon me for reminding you, sir, but humans are – are very fragile.”

James chuckles and Jacques hums at the rumbling sound. “Good thing he’s not human, then. Demon, a powerful one at that. And look at him, so docile.”

Somebody whistles in appreciation. “How-”

“I have my ways.” James shifts Jacques so he’s sitting more closely. One hand firm on his hip. “Dear thing’s barely even brainwashed. I didn’t need to force loyalty on him, he’s so _devoted…”_

“Sir, if I may ask,” another male voice, hesitant. “If he’s so powerful, perhaps he should be distributed-”

“Absolutely not. He’s _mine_ and he’s not for _sharing_.” James is rarely pouty, but it’s a cute look on him. “He’s here to serve me and he does a damn fine job at it. Now no more talk about him, back to our plan…”

* * *

Jacques has a strict morning routine. Day and night don’t matter so much in terms of sleeping, but James is usually out doing work during the night and comes home in the early morning hours, later if it’s raining that day.

First step is to comb his hair. James likes his hair to be neat so that he can run his fingers through it. He had made Jacques cut his hair when he came so that it’s only two inches long instead of Jacques’ normal untamable fluffy disaster of a head.

Hair is done. Now Jacques washes his face, cleans his glasses, and brushes his teeth. No need to take a shower today, though he will every few days at the very least.

Now for clothing. Jacques skims through his corner of the closet. Less is better. He decides on a leather jacket and sheer barely-there underwear.

Accessories. He rummages through a few boxes, sorting through harnesses and blindfolds and other paraphernalia. Too many options – always too many choices.

The front door opens and closes. Shit, _shit –_ James is already home. He’s early today.

Jacques panics and grabs the first thing he sees, then slams the box shut. A pair of handcuffs. He uses a touch of magic to get them on his wrists and locked behind his back. Hops on the bed and spreads his legs faux-casually moments before James opens the door.

“Hello darling, mmph-”

Must be in a bad mood. James kisses him with plenty of teeth, fingers already locked in Jacques’ hair.

Difficult to keep up, but Jacques isn’t in the Lust Department for nothing. James keeps up the aggressive onslaught and soon Jacques is face-down on the bed, shoulders straining and helpless to stop himself from being fucked into the mattress. James bites down on his neck and Jacques is seeing only stars by the time his lover is done.

He groans when James releases him. Lies limply on his side on the bedspread. James is dizzily coming in and out of focus in his vision. Jacques floats in a pleasant haze.

James changes clothing without looking at him. Jacques admires the view. He doesn’t fuck like the James he once knew – too aggressive, too confident – but he still looks the same and he still sounds the same and that’s enough.

“Love you,” he murmurs. “Sweetheart, what you do to me…”

“Aw…” James finishes changing and sits on the bed next to him. He brushes a curl off Jacques’ forehead. “My harlot, you flatter me.” He grants him the gift of a gentle kiss – no teeth. Unlocks the handcuffs after a few minutes.

He doesn’t smile like Jacques’ former lover either – too many teeth, too sharp, too hungry. He smiles at Jacques like he’s just set his eyes upon a delicious treat that he just can’t wait to devour.

* * *

Jacques got lucky that the vampires didn’t kill him on sight.

Luck and charm and puppy-dog eyes and knowing their leader’s name. He lets himself be tied up and taken to James.

“And who is this?” James demands.

Jacques almost cries. He looks the same. A few scars and paler skin, but otherwise he still looks like Jacques’ university boyfriend. The love of his life that he lost – that he _let_ be turned into a tyrant.

“James, do you remember me?” He asks. “We knew each other in the 1800’s. Before you were turned. I – we were lovers. We went to school together.”

“That long ago?” James looks skeptical. “Hmmm...no. You couldn’t be Jacques. You’re not a vampire. Unless… How are you still alive?”

His heart leaps. James – James remembers his name! “Yes, yes! I am Jacques. You – you remember me?”

“Vaguely.” James frowns. “Answer my question.”

“I’m a demon. I’m sorry I never told you. Demon of the Lust department. At your eternal service if you’ll have me.”

“Lust department? Interesting. Show me.”

“What?” That’s not a good look on James. He’s got an amused mean smile. “I’m sorry? I’m not sure what you mean.”

James nods at one of the other vampires. “Selena, untie him. I expect him to put on _quite_ an interesting show for us.”

He is released. Jacques swallows hard and blushes. He’s starting to get James’ drift.

“You have a cruel streak,” he comments.

“So I’ve been told.” James snaps his fingers and Jacques can’t _not_ do what he asks. “Now get started.”

* * *

Jacques slips up. James comes home and he’s not ready at all. Barely even combed his hair.

“Bad boy, stupid boy,” James growls into his ear. Pins him against the bathroom counter. Jacques’ hands on the edge of the sink. He tries to look away but James grabs his chin and makes him watch himself in the mirror as James drinks from his neck until his knees wobble.

“Get dressed,” James orders. “Fully dressed. Underwear, pants, shirt, shoes. The whole deal.”

“Yes, James. Sorry, James.”

He does as he’s told. Obedient because submission makes James smile.

James takes his wrist and tows him to his office. “I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. In the meantime…” He bends Jacques over his desk. Jacques knocks a stack of papers off the desk scrabbling for a handhold. James covers his vocal mouth with a firm hand. Jacques whines into it when James finishes inside him, warm and wet.

“Filthy.” James pulls their pants back up. “So easy. Sit.” James sticks a hand down Jacques’ jeans and does not tease him. Instead, he has his eye on the clock and Jacques is quickly writhing and groaning.

“James, p-please-” Jacques tries to buck his hips. His head thrown back on James’ shoulder and dark spots starting to flicker in his eyes. “You – you’re going to make a mess of me.”

“Good. It’s what you deserve.”

 _“Please-”_ Jacques’ voice jumps an octave. He tries to kick, tries to struggle. Heat is stirring in his body and he – he’s still fully clothed. _“Please don’t – mmph-”_

“Normally harlots don’t complain.” James’ voice is quiet and dangerous. His hand over Jacques’ mouth again. “Normally they are grateful for such a chance to please their masters. And ruining yourself like this will please me very much. Knowing that I _did_ this and I will make you sit here in it for as long as I’d like. Until I think you’ve learned your lesson.” He increases his pace with an amused chuckle at the tears gathering in Jacques’ eyes. “I think you won’t make your mistake again. Is that right?”

Jacques desperately nods.

“Then come for me in your pants like the filthy little boy that you are,” James whispers. Jacques whimpers and obeys.

“Good boy.” James lets him go. He makes Jacques lick his fingers clean, then shoves him down off the chair to sit at his feet. “What do you say?”

“Thank you.” Jacques brushes away tears of humiliation. “Thank you, sir.”

“Hm. Sit there until I tell you that you can leave.”

“Yes, sir.” Jacques shifts. Wet and sticky and uncomfortable. He sits in mortified silence when other people enter the room. James has a meeting, then another.

During pauses, James strokes his hair and smiles more gently. Smiles like he used to smile at one of Jacques’ kisses or gifts. Holy Hell, he lives only for that smile.

 _Please,_ Jacques silently mouths. He gets a small shake of the head in return.

“Sorry for my lapse in concentration,” James apologizes to his meeting. “My demonic pet was just giving me a bit of entertainment. He’s so _needy_ all the time, can’t hardly keep him from begging me to fuck him every couple of hours.” He shrugs. Jacques wants to go bury himself in a hole. But he has James’ smile to keep him company. “Now let’s continue.”

He kisses Jacques sweetly that evening. He calls Jacques his dear. He used to call him that. He used to kiss him like that.

He still does – just not that often. It’s a rare treat that Jacques relishes. He begs for more time, he begs James to stay just a little longer and kiss him just a little more gently. His rewards are hours spent on the couch with James softly reading to him or hours spent on James’ lap cuddling him during long boring meetings.

It’s not enough – of course it’s not enough. Jacques yearns for more, he can’t live without more. He sobs to himself in the long hours when he’s alone, when he has the time to properly compare the James he once knew and the one he knows now.

James is a monster. But Jacques loves him all the same.

* * *

“I’m just a victim, aren’t I?”

“Of course, of course.” Jacques rushes to reassure him. “You aren’t responsible for this. For any of this.”

James gifts him a smile. Green eyes boring into Jacques’ vision. No other color dares exist in this moment. “I’m just a victim. Your poor little James, brainwashed. How awful.”

“How awful.” Jacques finds himself unable to look away, but his eyes blur with tears. “All my fault – I didn’t save you. I could have tried to find you. I could have tried to prevent this. None of this is your fault.”

“None of this is my fault,” James repeats. “How comforting to know it’s not my fault. I’m just a victim. How awful.”

“How awful,” Jacques echoes again. “You’re just a victim.”

“That’s right.” James strokes his cheek. Another sunshine smile. “What would I do without you around to comfort me, dear? Whatever would I do…”

Jacques basks in his affection like a cat in sunlight. Eats up his lavish kisses like James laps up his blood. Stays in James’ lap half-conscious for hours more until James finally shifts him so that he can stand up.

“No, darling…” Jacques grabs for him. Misses and tries again for James’ hand, but misses again. “James, sweetheart, don’t leave…. I need you, I love you so terribly….”

“Aww, sometimes you’re such a needy bitch…” James adjusts him so Jacques is sitting more comfortably. “Just sit here. I’ll be back.”

He comes back. Of course he comes back, he _needs_ Jacques. He loves him.

Wait, does he? Has this James ever actually _said_ that he loves Jacques?

No matter. He doesn’t need to say it. Jacques knows that he does. Of course he does – how could he not?

* * *

Jacques Revel barely even remembers what happened.

But he remembers enough to know that his James is _dead._

“Jacques, Jacques, shh, it’s okay…” Lucy fusses over him back at the Org. She bandages his neck and collarbone, wincing at the damage there. “It’s okay, you’re safe, you’re with me. It’s okay-”

“No, it’s not! It’s not okay!” He screams, thrashing in vain against the enchanted rope binding him to a chair. Hasn’t stopped fighting since the incident. “It’s not, it’s not, it’ll _never_ be okay again! Not without him, Luce, not without him-”

“I know, I know, it hurts. But I’m here for you, brother, I’m here.”

Jacques blocks out hours at a time. Spends them wailing for his love, kicking and resisting his dear sister’s efforts to calm him.

He comes back to reality after one particularly rough episode. Stacey is sitting in front of him. Frowning into his eyes. She has a few new scars. He can tell she hasn’t properly slept in days. Weeks, maybe.

“He’s worse than I feared,” she says over her shoulder to Lucy. “The other victims have all recovered by now. And they were brainwashed for much longer. But Jacques is still…still like this.”

Lucy sighs. She goes behind Jacques and starts brushing his hair. Quietly cursing at the tangles. “He loved him, Stacey. Still does. Despite everything, despite all that _he_ did. He never gave up hope.”

Talking like they don’t remember that Jacques is right here.

“He was just a _victim,”_ Jacques interjects. “Nothing was his fault. He was just brainwashed – controlled by Holz.” Optimism stirs in his numb heart. “We – we could go bring him back. Bring him back to me. Try to get him back to normal.”

“Shh,” Lucy soothes. “Jacques, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. We already burnt the body. We buried the ashes in the cemetery. Gave him a lovely gravestone. You can go visit later if you’d like.”

“No, no, _no-”_ That would mean that he was really dead. As long as Jacques doesn’t visit, it won’t be real, it won’t have really happened, his precious James won’t _really_ be gone forever-

Stacey puts a hand on Jacques’ shoulder. “I’m sorry too, Jacques. You – you just need to work through this. You can’t avoid it. Things will get better. I promise.”

“Nothing can get better,” he argues. Shakes his head to brush Lucy’s comforting hands off him. “My heart will never beat again. The sun will never rise for me, the moon will never shine for me. Not really, not while he’s gone, not while I continue to exist without him.” He knows he’s just getting more hysterical, but he can’t help it. “There is no North anymore for me. There is no warmth, there is no love anymore – how can I stand to love? How can my soul keep going without him? He – he was _everything_ to me and they slaughtered him like he was a _monster-”_

“Shit. He really _is_ worse than we thought.” Lucy softly puts a hand on Jacques’ forehead. “He’ll work himself into a frenzy at this point. He needs to rest. Recover.”

Stacey stands and leans over Jacques. “I’ll put him to sleep for a couple hours.”

“No, no – no sleep. Please don’t, Stacey, don’t – I’ll wake up and he’ll still be gone and I couldn’t take it, please don’t-”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. Leans forward and touches his cheek.

He sleeps for hours.

He wakes. His James is still dead.


End file.
